


good memories of us feel so real, must be fake

by desmondkilometers (clockworkcorvids)



Category: Assassin's Creed - All Media Types
Genre: Bisexual Desmond Miles, Bleeding Effect, But Only a Little Bit - Freeform, Coming Out, Desynchronization (Assassin's Creed), Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Fluff and Humor, Gen, Light Angst, M/M, Memory Alteration, Pining, Pre-Relationship, The Animus (Assassin's Creed), and if youre me you have to squint all the time bc ur vision is shit, desynchronization imminent, implied pre-relationship shaundes if you squint, just a tiny bit of, so much pining, wanna get fluff/angst whiplash? im your guy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-04
Updated: 2020-07-04
Packaged: 2021-03-04 17:39:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,327
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25070269
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/clockworkcorvids/pseuds/desmondkilometers
Summary: Don’t try to change the memories, they said. Whatever you do, don’t go and fuck this up. You’ll just hurt yourself.Desmond tries to change a memory anyways. Just this once, he tries to ease the pain a little, because hasn’t Ezio lost enough? Hasn’t Ezio lost almost everything, all that he loves, all who he loves, one home after another?Admittedly, he probably should have thought it through a bit more.
Relationships: Ezio Auditore da Firenze & Leonardo da Vinci, Ezio Auditore da Firenze/Leonardo da Vinci
Comments: 14
Kudos: 102





	good memories of us feel so real, must be fake

**Author's Note:**

  * Translation into Русский available: [good memories of us feel so real, must be fake](https://archiveofourown.org/works/25379134) by [drunken_hedgehog](https://archiveofourown.org/users/drunken_hedgehog/pseuds/drunken_hedgehog)



> this was supposed to be desynch/"don't alter the memories" angst but then i wrote 2k of leoezio fluff and couldn't just let that go   
> ~~you know me, though, couldn't make it 100% fluff~~
> 
> title from [everyone blooms](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=1crwMGppZR4) by the front bottoms

_Don’t try to change the memories_ , they said. Whatever you do, don’t stray from the path that’s been laid out before you. You’ve been given signs, five hundred years of hindsight, five hundred years to set things in stone, so don’t go and fuck this up. You’ll just hurt yourself.

Desmond tries to change a memory anyways. Just this once, he tries to ease the pain a little, because hasn’t Ezio lost enough? Hasn’t Ezio lost almost everything, all that he loves, all  _ who _ he loves, one home after another? 

Admittedly, he probably should have thought it through a bit more.

* * *

_ He fucked it up, he knows he did, went too slow, hesitated too long, couldn’t catch up to his - Ezio’s - brother. didn’t let the memory properly synchronize. The world glitches like a TV with no signal, like a cell phone dropped too hard, and two words flash before Desmond’s eyes like a vision of what’s to come:  _

DESYNCHRONIZATION IMMINENT. 

_ It’s the same with the Animus 2.0 as it had been with the first, he realizes, as Federico disappears from his field of vision, over a rooftop, and Desmond is suddenly unable to move. The memory is slipping away through his fingertips like sand through a colander, and it feels as if all the air is being ripped out of his lungs, too.  _

DESYNCHRONIZED.

_ Desmond jerks back into 2012 with a sharp, desperate inhalation, forcing air into his lungs. His heart seems to want to burst out of the front of his chest, and not in a good way. He’s never doing that again, and  _ definitely  _ not on purpose. If a small accident hurt that much, he doesn’t want to think what’ll happen to him if he goes and does something Ezio wouldn’t - didn’t.  _

* * *

He’s come to Leonardo’s workshop again, bringing yet another codex page. He has the locations of many, could get them all at once. He knows it’s safer to do so - and Desmond briefly wonders if this  _ he _ is himself, Ezio, or both, but it must mostly be Ezio, or he would have long since desynchronized - but he’s willing to risk a little for every chance he gets to see Leo. To just... _ be _ with Leo, and watch the genius’ eyes light up as he figures out how to decode each. Sure, he could stay a little longer if he brought a few at a time, but he enjoys the consistency of being able to come by Leo’s workshop a number of times. 

Ezio raps his knuckles on the door, and before he’s even lowered his fist, it’s swinging open, revealing the familiar face of the man he loves.

That’s another thing it took Desmond a while to figure out, because it was obvious, should have been obvious to  _ anyone  _ who watched the two - but then again, Desmond was watching through Ezio’s eyes, feeling what Ezio felt, and that made all the difference, because he couldn’t hide his feelings from, well...himself. 

“Ezio, what a pleasant surprise!” Leo exclaims, as if Ezio hasn’t come by every single day for the last week. Leonardo is beaming at Ezio, he almost always is, delighted about one thing or another, as he ushers the Assassin into his workshop, and Ezio pulls down his hood, now that he’s safe. Floorboards creak slightly under his feet as he follows Leo in, and his gaze sweeps the workshop, taking in all of Leo’s countless works in progress - paintings, sketches, ciphers, machines, ranging from the easily recognizable to those which Ezio is sure Leo has invented himself.

(He’ll no doubt ask Ezio to test some of them, soon, and Ezio will be more than happy to do so.)

“So, what brings you here today, my friend?” he asks, turning to glance and smile at Ezio as he clears a mess of paintbrushes and quills off a desk. 

Ezio smiles back, Desmond can feel it in a strange, ghostly way, like he’s controlling a too-realistic puppet from the inside. He’s gotten used to it over time, but like the thoughts that feel like echoes and visions more than anything else, it’s still jarring to notice from time to time. 

“Ah, just the usual.” 

“Another codex page?”

“I was going to say the pleasure of your company,” Ezio replies, leaning on the nearest wall like the smooth bastard he is, “but that as well.”

Leo bows, auburn hair falling around his face, and Ezio desperately wants to brush it behind Leo’s ears, to play with it, to twirl a lock around his fingers. He yearns for it, he longs for it, so passionately that the desire is nearly inseparable from Desmond’s own - if Desmond even has such desires, that is. He might, but he’s had other things on his mind as of late. He’ll find someone who makes him feel this way - might have already found someone - when this is all over, after the Assassins save the world.

For now, he just lies there in Ezio’s memories, watching his ancestor banter with Leonardo in that smooth back-and-forth way they go about it. It’s almost musical, rhythmic, the way Ezio quips and Leo responds - genuinely, too, not just forcing a laugh to satisfy Ezio.

He pays attention even as Leo decodes the codex page, because - as difficult as it is to remember sometimes - Ezio’s the one in love with the man, not him, but it’s still fascinating watching him work. Desmond thinks that if Shaun could see this, not through the recordings but like he is now, it’d probably be a moment as worthy of celebration as his birthday. Which, well...that’s part of why they’re doing this, isn’t it? Not so Shaun can fulfill his stuffy, oddly specific historical fantasies, but so he can  _ learn _ (and do that other thing at the same time, as it happens), without what the Templars have hidden from the record getting in his way. 

And it’s over soon enough.  _ Too _ soon, in Ezio’s opinion, and Desmond has to agree, even though that doesn’t mean much because he usually  _ does _ agree. He’s got one more decoded codex page, one more piece of that big strange puzzle. 

He wonders what would happen, if he, as Ezio, held off on doing the usual, just came around with a pile of codex pages. Would that be enough for him to desynchronize, or, like a change in where he looks or the way he walks or some other thing that turns out to be insignificant to the way the wheels of time will turn, would it change anything? Desmond thinks, yes, it would, because it might change the way Leo and Ezio feel about each other, but then again, it might  _ not _ , because he’s fairly certain at least one side of that relationship is set in stone, that Ezio will always feel the way he does about Leonardo da Vinci. Ezio wouldn't come by with more than one codex page at a time.

Which came first, the chicken or the egg? Which came first, the way two long-dead humans feel about each other, or the way they don’t?

Ezio takes the page, thanks Leo gratuitously, and Leo asks him, all innocent and beaming, like the ray of sunshine he is, if he’s going to leave now.

Ezio feigns distress. “You want to get rid of me?” he complains, hand over his chest, stumbling as if he’s taken a shot to the heart. Recalling the boxes he carried for Leo so long ago, he thinks Leo wouldn’t be able to catch him if he were to actually fall, but the inverse is not true. He could hold Leonardo in his arms, easily. 

(He wants to. Again, it’s passionate, it’s fervent ardor, it’s damn near poetry with the way Ezio’s heart is bursting as Leo insists  _ No, not at all, I simply do not wish to interfere with your duties. I know you are a busy man, after all. _ ) 

Ezio straightens his posture. “I can always make time for you,  _ caro mio _ .” 

And Leo blushes. He fucking  _ blushes _ , and Desmond really hopes Shaun can see this, because holy  _ shit _ , this is historical immersion at its best. How many people alive in the twenty-first century can say that they saw Leonardo da Vinci  _ blush? _ Desmond sure can.

But as soft and tender as the moment is, Ezio is still a haunted man - still lives in fear, beneath all the wisecracking and smooth talking - and Desmond feels it in the memories, the way he shrinks back from going too far. 

Desmond isn’t restricted by that personal fear Ezio has, though, and he wants to scream so loud it echoes back half a millennium and falls on seemingly unhearing ears. He watches through Ezio’s body as the Assassin follows Leo back into his studio, sits and gazes at the man as he paints. The two of them make small talk. 

_ He loves you back _ , Desmond wants to say - wants  _ Ezio _ to know - because he doesn’t know how corrupted the Templar historical records are, or how under-the-radar these two can manage, but the record certainly shows no sign of Ezio ever having made it past this unwillingness to speak his feelings. He can hold out hope, though, and he  _ does _ , and he  _ will _ , he’s going to tell Shaun all about this next time he gets out of the Animus - sure, he’s just a little personally invested, but he’s doing a service to history. Let it go on record that Ezio Auditore da Firenze called Leonardo da Vinci  _ my dear _ , and made him blush.

“You should come with me to paint out by the river, sometime,” Leo says, in between humming to himself as he lays messy sketched-out lines on a square of parchment. 

“I would enjoy that very much,” Ezio says, “but I do not know if I can risk being seen out in the open like that.”

“What do you mean? You’re out in the open all the time.” Confusion somehow manages to look endearing on Leo’s face, even if it’s rather out of place, almost painful to see, because he looks just a little hurt. Just a tiny bit. Slightly. Really, that might even just be Desmond’s interpretation, because he doesn’t know what Leo’s thinking. Hell, he doesn’t even have a total tangible grasp on  _ Ezio’s _ thoughts, and he’s reliving the guy’s memories right now.

“It’s more that, hm - ” Ezio dips his head, as if he’s thinking, but he’s really just embarrassed “ - I don’t want to put you at risk. Being the known...companion of an Assassin is dangerous.”

Companion. Not  _ friend _ . An interesting choice of words, and Desmond thinks he might be reading into it too much for a split second, but then he realizes that was  _ Ezio’s _ thought, not his. He...well, he doesn’t like that, but it’s not like he can do much about it right now. 

“It’s a noble risk,” Leonardo replies, smiling brightly. 

“Of course you would say that,” Ezio says. He lets out a fond chuckle, and it’s these kind of moments that remind Desmond that Ezio isn’t just a legendary Assassin and some name way back in his bloodline to be revered, he is - was -  _ human _ . Just like Desmond, a human person with feelings and loves and fears and everything in between.

“Perhaps we could try somewhere else, more secluded. A balcony, maybe? Or we could go outside the city, into the fields - I’ve wanted to paint the skies out there again for some time.”

Ezio is absolutely  _ enamored _ , Desmond can feel it. Leonardo is, too - he doesn’t need to feel it to know that, it’s obvious enough in everything from the lilt of the man’s voice to the undying smile tugging at his lips.

“Hmm. If it were truly safe, then, and there were no guards around…”

Leonardo is back to idly humming as he sketches, but he pauses to speak again. “Of course, I could always find a different subject. I know you value your privacy, but I would love to paint you, if you would allow it.”

“Hm. What was this you were saying about interfering with my duties?”

Leo blushes again. “You twist my words, Ezio.”

Ezio bursts out laughing, but his next words are perfectly serious. “It’d be an honor to be painted by you,  _ maestro. _ ”

He stands, finally, restless as ever, and peers over Leo’s shoulder at the man’s sketch. This sort of closeness is typical for them, when they are alone, but Desmond senses there is something lurking beneath the surface, a desire clawing at Ezio to get out, but one which he cannot - or  _ will _ not - act on. 

Desmond thinks about the warnings about desynchronization. He remembers the pain and nausea from all the times he’s done it before, though those were all accidents. He thinks about the chicken and the egg, the endless cycle, history repeating itself. He thinks that this is a risk worth taking, or, as Leo would say,  _ a noble risk _ .

Ezio, but not really Ezio, because Desmond is the one guiding his movements to alter a projection of something that occurred five hundred years ago, turns and catches Leo’s jaw in one hand, tilts his head upwards. 

“May I have this honor as well?” he asks, haunted by the fact that this is far more something Ezio would say than something Desmond would, and that it came so easily. 

“Yes, of course,” Leo breathes, looking surprised but, for all the world, delighted. 

They kiss, and it feels so pure, so  _ right _ , that Desmond takes a moment to notice the familiar, dreadful sensation of sand slipping through his fingers, memories slipping away, air being torn from his lungs - 

_ DESYNCHRONIZATION IMMINENT _ . 

They keep kissing, and even if this isn’t the true memory, even if this isn’t what happened, even if Desmond has no idea how, logically, this  _ is _ happening, it feels real enough for Desmond  _ and _ Ezio that Desmond thinks, with certainty, that this is the truth of Leonardo da Vinci and Ezio Auditore da Firenze.

Although, admittedly, if this is how Leo would react no matter when Ezio made his move, Desmond might as well have waited for it to happen naturally. Changing the memory was a bad, impulsive decision, the kind that Desmond can’t exactly say he’s unfamiliar with.

_ DESYNCHRONIZED _ .

There’s this feeling, that you get, in a dream, when your body mimics all the sensations of falling, and you’re terrified, exhilarated, but mostly just confused. And then you wake up, you’re snapping upright, but it feels like you just fell from the sky and against your pillow, and those two things shouldn’t go together at all. It’s the worst kind of jarring that most people have experienced. 

That’s how Desmond feels when he opens his eyes, lungs heaving, and sees all three of his fellow Assassins leaning over him. Similarly to the way he usually feels when he wakes up in the morning, dream or not, he’s also ridiculously exhausted, like he could fall asleep any second now.

“Let it be known,” he wheezes, “that Ezio made Leo blush.” 

Desmond coughs. 

“Twice.”

He closes his eyes, fully planning to fall asleep, and it could have been anywhere between a single second and a few minutes before he’s rudely jolted awake again, feeling someone poke him. It’s Rebecca. She’s poking his shoulder over and over again.

“Rebecca, stop, you’re just going to piss him off,” Shaun complains, and Desmond yawns. 

“Yeah, as if that’s ever stopped you,” he says, forcing heavy eyelids open again, and everyone startles.

“Oh, fantastic,” Shaun grumbles, “he didn’t die.”

“‘M just tired,” Desmond says, too exhausted to snap back at Shaun. “Purposefully desynchronizing is taxing.”

“Whoa, whoa,” Rebecca says, at the same time that Lucy’s eyebrows achieve low-Earth orbit, “you did that on  _ purpose? _ ”

“Yeah?” Desmond says. “Did you not...see the feeds?”

“The feeds cut off right after you - er -  _ Ezio _ \- kissed Leo.”

Desmond is the one to blush this time. “Yeah, uh, that was...that one was all me. Well, Ezio was certainly into it, they  _ both _ were, but I guess it wasn’t supposed to happen right then and there.”

_ Well _ , he thinks,  _ that got awkward quickly.  _ Forget desynchronizing,  _ this _ is the worst part of messing with memories.

“Wait,” Rebecca says, because she has absolutely no impulse control, “if you started it, does that mean you’re gay?”

“Bisexual,” Desmond replies, and he’s surprised by how easily it slips out, especially given that he did  _ not _ think this through or see any of it coming at all. “Thanks for noticing, though.”

“Sweet.” She high-fives him, and he has absolutely no idea what that’s supposed to mean, but he’s a little too tired and confused to start asking. Shaun and Lucy, meanwhile, are staring between the two of them like they’re aliens, and Desmond narrows his eyes. 

“What?” he asks. 

Lucy blinks. “I’m as lost as you,” she says. 

He glances at Shaun, who looks like he’d really rather be anywhere else right now (this is approximately how Desmond feels).

Shaun just sighs, deeply, and puts his face in his hands.

“Please, for the sake of the Animus and your own fragile neurons, don’t do that again.”

“What, you don’t want Ezio and Leonardo to kiss? They’re so happy together. What are you, homophobic?”

Fingers part to reveal a sliver of wireframe glasses and disgruntled blue eyes.

“This isn’t how I imagined telling you this, but I’m literally gay, Desmond.”

“You’re dodging the question.” 

“Desmond, for the love of god - ”

“Look,” Rebecca interjects, trying not to laugh, “just don’t try to alter any memories. It’s not good for you or the Animus.”

Desmond, from where he’s now laid back in the Animus, eyes closed, flashes a thumbs-up. 

“Got it. Anyways, Shaun, do you know if Ezio and Leo ever actually did that? Without, you know, not-quite-divine intervention or whatever.”

He opens his eyes again to see Shaun’s face, no longer glued to his hands, and to his surprise, the man looks like he’s genuinely considering the question. 

“I haven’t seen any evidence to support it, but given period-typical attitudes toward homosexuality, I’m not surprised if it were erased or simply hidden. And of course, what with Ezio staying under the radar as he did, and so many historical records being written by Templars, it’s unlikely any hard evidence exists outside of Ezio’s own memories.”

That hurts a little more than it should, frankly, but Rebecca claps him on the shoulder and starts to speak before he can dwell on it for long. 

“Tell you what, Desmond. If anything like that ever happened, I bet Ezio would consider it important enough for it to be in one of the sequences you’ll be going through. If it’s there, you’ll find it when the time is right.”

Well, if there’s one thing worse than waiting, it’s waiting and  _ not knowing _ , but Desmond gets the feeling he’s going to have to contend with plenty of that anyways in the upcoming month, so he just goes along with it.

He supposes the whole thing could have gone worse - after all, he’s (mostly) awake, and he came out to the only people he considers friends or even allies (the word’s dual meaning is especially relevant) right now,

Desmond groans. His head is starting to hurt a little from the stress of desynchronizing, and also maybe just this situation in general.

“Put me back under,” he says.

“Are you sure?” Lucy asks, “you look like you could use some rest.”

He half expects her to slap on an addendum about how they’re on the clock, or for Shaun to make a similar complaint, but neither say anything of the sort.

This time, reliving the memory again, he exercises patience. Nothing like a kiss happens, but Leo still offers to paint Ezio, and Ezio still accepts it after skirting around reasons for Leo to want to watch his own back.

Oh, and Ezio still makes Leonardo blush.

(Twice.)

**Author's Note:**

> thanks for reading!  
> enjoyed this? in emotional distress? all of the above? take a second to leave a comment! it makes my day <3
> 
> come yell at me on [twitter](https://twitter.com/aceofcorvids)!


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